He Would Have to be a Complete Fool
by Muneca-de-trapo
Summary: John awakes to a crying child in the flat. A very familiar looking child. But it's just coincidence, or maybe a dream? It's not real. No, definitely not real. Post-Reichenbach


**First Sherlock work. Continuation based on good reception!**

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John Watson awoke to the sound of a loud sob and the shadow of a figure quickly gaining proximity. Jumping up, John reached over to take hold his gun and turn on the lamp to let light flood the room. The orange tint illuminated the movements of a small figure curled up where he had just been. After taking a moment to gage the situation, John noticed the crick in his neck and cursed himself for accidentally falling asleep on the couch.

Also, laying where he had just been asleep, there was a boy with curly black hair, curled up in a ball, crying.

"Sher-!" John began to shout, right before his heart clenched in remembrance. He couldn't blame Sherlock for this one. Eight months later and John still managed to have brief moments of ignorance. Forgetting the fact that his best friend no longer shared the flat with him. That he was... he wasn't around anymore.

John blew out a breath and refocused his thoughts. _Okay, why is there __a child in the flat? _

"_I'm_ _sorry_, _John"_ He heard a little voice wheeze.

John replaced his gun on the table. "Uhm… Where did you come from? How did you get in here?" John looked around, other than the lamp he just switched on, the lights were all turned off and the flat was silent. When he turned back to the couch, the boy had uncurled and was hugging a pillow to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, John. I'm sorry." He cried.

John stiffened in confusion_. _He approached the sofa slowly, getting a better look at the boy. _What are you apologising for?_ As he approached, he could see the twin tear tracks running down the boy's cheeks from-… Grey eyes, just like Sherlock's. He couldn't be more than six years old.

The boy sobbed again, before moving toward John to cling to his arm.

Stunned into immobility, John laid his other hand on the boy's head."Shh, shh, hey calm down. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone bring you here?"

The boy's trembling continued, and John looked about the room, at a loss for what to do.

"I had a dream that you almost died." The boy's voice cracked in misery. "Because of me."

John felt instantly unsettled. Why would this boy have a nightmare about John when he's never even seen him before. Who is this kid? Where did this boy even come from-

The boy's hitched breaths and returning sobs pulled John from his thoughts.

"Hey, I'm right here, see? Nothing bad happened to me. I'm fine." John knelt onto the floor. The boy adjusted, but still clung to him, as if he were going to suddenly disappear.

_I must be hallucinating_. _Right, sleep pattern all messed up, of course I'm hallucinating. _"…Who are you?" John asked again, softly.

The boy looked up at him and John swallowed hard. He looked just like a young Sherlock. Just like he had seen in photographs (that had been quickly confiscated). Same piercing eyes, same hair, cheekbones less prominent, but still there.

"Do you hate me, John? You're going to leave, aren't you?"

"Leave? No, I-, I don't hate you-" John had no idea what to say. Of course! This was a dream! Way too bizarre to be real.

Shaking his head again, he focused on the task of calming down the distressed child. "How about a story, hmm? A good bedtime story to put you back to sleep. I have nightmares too sometimes. I know they can be pretty scary, but I don't think you'll have another nightmare tonight. We can figure things out in the morning." _If you're still here._

The child looked up at him expectantly. John took a deep breath.

"This is the story of... the best man I have ever known. There was once a lonely soldier. His life was dull and grey compared to his days fighting in the army. But then he was wounded and couldn't fight or run anymore. So, he returned home to live in a dreary little flat. Life went on around him, near him. But nothing ever happened to him." John inhaled and watched as the boy's eyes started to flutter shut, fighting to keep eye contact with John. "… Little did he know, fate would lead him to a mad man who would provide him with endless adventures and puzzles to unravel. And you know what? That brilliant man repaired the soldier on the night of their first adventure. He made sure the soldier never experienced another dull moment. And suddenly, that soldier thought himself the luckiest man in the world."

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**Who is this boy?**


End file.
